Anxiety

From just above the boys' changing room you could see through the window down into that basement space, where the class below mine was getting changed for gym. The more I watched, the more fitful my peering became.  Even though they were younger, I couldn't make out a single pair of little underpants like mine - from what I could see it was proper boys' ones all round. My heartbeat began to quicken with fright. Did gaudy colourful under-shorts like those hide under the school skirts of boys in my year too, then? And were they going to tease me about what was white and lace-edged under mine, as soon as they saw?

It was a worrying question to have on my mind! But the secrets of my male classmates' underwear were just going to have to to remain a tantalizing mystery until our first gym lesson.

I didn't think I could be the only boy wearing knickers at my school though, even if I was possibly the only one my age. Some of the boy-skirts I'd been seeing were surely too short for you to wear boxers underneath, without the legs showing. That lunchtime I went in search of confirmation for my desperate hopes. When I saw a boy whose hemline really was up to his little butt, I stopped to chat.

"So what's it like having to wear a miniskirt like that?" I asked him.

"Embarrassing," he replied shyly.  "Anyway, Alicia's making me play her at one-on-one, but you can watch if you like."

For sure enough, a flat-faced smirky blonde was approaching. She looked a whole lot cooler than either me or my new friend, bouncing up to us in just an open short-sleeved blouse, a short blue skirt and open-toed sandals.  This school uniform was so unfair on boys, I thought to myself jealously.  Just looking at her made me want to fidget and adjust things, but I sure wasn't going to give a girl the satisfaction of seeing that!

Still, at least watching my friend play against her was likely to answer my question, so I tucked my skirts under my bum and settled down to watch. Because of that absurd mini he was wearing, I got a good look at his underwear the very minute Alicia made him try a big jump. He was indeed wearing underpants like mine, only his seemed to be plain white ones that were actually made for boys, in other words without lacy leg-holes or dots or anything. I was jealous, and wished I had a pair like that. If people saw those it'd be a bit less embarrassing, at least!

Even so, just seeing what I'd seen had decided me.  I was going to put my name down for PE with their age-group, not mine. Underpants and blushes didn't sound as bad as being the only boy showing his knickers!

At my first gym class one of the girls talked to me at half-time, which was nice of her. Just a little bit of sweetness made such a difference!

“Um, you should just think of me as one of the other girls,” I told her, even though it was embarrassing to have to do so. “I know I’m older and kind of a boy, but this is just the level I’m at, which is the same as yours.”

“You’re cute in a skirt,” the girl remarked with a giggle.

I managed a smile at this. “You don’t see it much on my age!” I admitted. “I’m really behind.”

“Have you got to wear knickers underneath like us?” she asked, wide-eyed but also clearly enjoying the naughty question. I blushed.

“Yes!” I told her, long-suffering, which made her giggle again. “In fact that’s more important for us boys!”

She nodded with understanding, as she could see how that would be. “You’re the biggest boy I’ve ever seen who’s still got to though,” she pointed out.

“Well, I can’t help that,” I declared, feeling really stupid.

“Don’t tell Alicia because she’ll make you show them,” the girl warned me confidentially.

“Alicia shows hers!” I exclaimed, and that made us both laugh. Then the girl apropos of nothing kicked into a cartwheel right in front of me, and I learned that even girls of the netball crowd sometimes wore underpants as white as mine!

“I hope you’re not expecting me to do that,” I told her, as soon as she was rightside-up again.

“Can’t even do a cartwheel?” she cried, as if there was something seriously wrong with me.

“Er, I seem to remember you’ve already noticed I’m a boy!” I reminded her. This little white-knicks with her mass of golden curls was fast becoming my favourite.

“If you get one pass off in the second half I’ll let you keep my fusty pants overnight, boy,” she scoffed aloud, as if she’d already made up her mind that that was never going to happen. And sure enough, I didn’t get a pass off in the second half – in fact I didn’t even touch the ball, just like in the first half! After the game the girl breezed by me, taking with her a cloud of that fustiness in which she took such pride.

“Better luck next time, boy!” said she.

I was limp at the chance I’d missed. I'd have had such fun with her knickers, but as she said, there was always next time!